


To Catch (Or Not To Catch)

by astheykissconsume



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, The Reichenbach Fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astheykissconsume/pseuds/astheykissconsume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sebastian has to do things which were definitely not in the job description, Jim is heavier than anticipated, and being a consulting criminal and his second-in-command is generally harder than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Catch (Or Not To Catch)

"... and then I'm going to jump out of the window and you're going to catch me."

It takes a moment, but then Sebastian gives him a look, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised. He's done his best to listen carefully to Jim's plan (mostly because Jim gets shouty when he sees that Sebastian's eyes have glazed over mid-rant, and he'd really rather save that earache for another time). But Jim's been doing his head in over this "Rich Brook" thing for the last three months, and even though they've reached the point where it's actually going to happen, Seb has developed an unfortunate tendency of hearing that name and switching off. But he heard that last part well enough, and it doesn't sound like it bodes well for him.

"Catch you?" he repeats.

It's Jim's turn to give him a look now. He hates it when Sebastian makes him repeat himself. "Yes, catch me," he says impatiently. "The window is the only exit from Kitty's flat which won't be blocked by our darling detective and his doctor."

" _Your_ darling detective," Sebastian mutters, but that's beside the point. It's the word 'catch' which is still filling him with a sense of foreboding. "You do know that's gonna be difficult, right?" He's imagining Jim hurtling down towards him from some stupid height like a particularly malicious lemming. Fuck.

"It's not far. She lives on the ground floor."

"The window's not on the ground floor, though." He's seen the photos - had them shoved under his nose when he was trying to read, accompanied by Jim sitting on his feet and bouncing up and down until he finally gave in and looked. The window's not that far off the ground, granted, but the journalist's tiny backyard is set slightly lower than the rest of the house, meaning that the distance between the window and the ground is just a bit wider than Sebastian would like.

Because this is _Jim_. If he miscalculates even a little - or, fucking christ, misses all together - he'll probably end up minus his fingernails and potentially missing an eyeball too.

Jim is looking at him with narrowed eyes. Sebastian stares back, trying not to look alarmed.

"You'll catch me," Jim says slowly. It sounds like a threat.

Sebastian has faced down enemy fire, big cats, rival gangs and Jim Moriarty on a bad hair day. He can do this. "I'll catch you," he echoes, and he fucking well hopes it's the truth.

-

He doesn't catch him.

Jim left the window ajar before heading out under the pretense of getting some groceries, and Sebastian looks up at it from his position in the backyard with more than a little trepidation. He can hear some of what is going on inside, vaguely; Watson's angry bellow traveled far enough to reach Sebastian's sharp ears, and he shakes his head a little at the sound of Jim's trembling voice getting higher and louder in apparent distress. He can imagine him, harmless in his cardigan and hapless with his tousled hair, all big brown eyes and quivering mouth and nervous, wringing hands -

\- hands which will no doubt wrap around Sebastian's throat and _squeeze_ if he screws this up. He makes himself concentrate properly. He hears Holmes roar from inside the house - and fuck but he's never heard the detective lose his cool _that_ much before - and he stretches his arms out, knowing his moment is soon. He can do this.

Except apparently he can't.

Sebastian's reflexes are fast, and he's strong, and it's not the _speed_ at which Jim suddenly hurls himself from the window which startles him but the _angle_ of it is all wrong, and before he knows what's happening Jim's weight has slammed into his shoulder instead of his waiting arms; it's all he can do to silence his groan at the impact before acting on instinct, throwing his own weight forwards so that they both land in a painful heap a short distance away from the window Where Holmes can't see them when he sticks his head out. Which he does, of course. He's banged his knee against the wall and Jim's somehow managed to knock heads with him, and Sebastian thinks through the ache in his skull that surely he at least deserves some credit for managing to get them out of sight before Sherlock bloody Holmes saw them.

In the ensuing silence, they hear Holmes' voice. "No no no, he'll have back-up." His tone is dark, heavy with frustration. Under the apparent belief that his nemesis has made a skilled escape from the house in a matter of seconds, and oblivious to the fact that said nemesis is currently bedraggled and squashed under his second-in-command metres away from him. Sebastian almost winces at the irony.

He doesn't quite dare risk a glance at Jim, though from the corner of his eye he can see that Jim's hair is even wilder than it had been when he trotted off to stage his little showdown. He's utterly silent, but he's looking at Sebastian, waiting for Sebastian to meet his gaze. Sebastian doesn't. He busies himself with looking up at the window, waiting for the head of tufty curls to vanish. He continues to look up at the window even after Holmes has gone. Then, slowly, with the air of someone looking at the gallows on which they will imminently hang, he looks at Jim.

There's a smudge of dirt on his cheek and a hint of a bruise forming on his forehead where their heads had banged together when they fell. His eyes are fixed on Sebastian's.

"It was the angle," Sebastian says before Jim can speak.

Jim's eyebrows raise slowly. "The angle." It's a statement, not a question, but the disbelief in his tone is almost tangible.

Sebastian nods, then wishes he hadn't. They're still close, too close; his head hurts and he has to lean back a little to prevent himself from crossing his eyes to meet Jim's gaze. "You were heavier than I was expecting," he adds, because fuck it, he's already waist-deep in shit. Why not dig a little deeper? It's true, anyway. 

Jim's eyes flash, and that comment manages to pull him out of his iciness; instead, he turns fiery and snaps in a furious undertone, "I am _not_ heavy you _imbecile_ , you just clearly don't have the hand-to-eye coordination required to catch someone falling a _short_ distance, which makes me wonder really what use you actually are as a _sniper_ , you _complete_ \- "

"Rich?" They both freeze, holding their breath as one. In the window above, Kitty Riley peers out into the gloom of her backyard, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Rich, if you're there, I'll come out and find you, alright? It's going to be okay. I won't let him hurt you," she says softly.

Her head withdraws, and Sebastian and Jim are left in the silence again, looking at each other.

There's a moment of quiet, then Jim speaks.

"Get off me, you brute."

Sebastian rolls his eyes but complies, gingerly picking himself up off the ground and then holding out a dirt-stained hand to Jim. Jim sniffs at it but takes it, making a futile attempt to dust himself down once they're both standing.

"She'll be out soon. And I can't be bothered to fake anymore crying into her shoulder, so you'd better call one of the cars to us," he mutters. He's in a mood, that much is obvious, but if he has one thing to be grateful for to Kitty Riley, it's her interruption taking the steam out of Jim's Seb-directed tantrum.

"Called one before you even went in there, boss. C'mon."

They use the back gate to let themselves out of the yard. Jim manages that fairly quickly, obviously harbouring no intentions whatsoever of putting up with Riley for a second more, but once they're a street away and he deems that he's no longer at risk of her finding them, he slows down and begins to feign an obstinate, dramatic limp. Sebastian sighs but puts an arm around him to help him along, even letting Jim bat at him and whine as though he doesn't want the help before 'reluctantly' accepting it. He likes the coddling, Seb knows, even if he'd deny it to the grave and back. He also knows that Jim has been laying these plans for months, and he dislikes it whenever anything goes wrong. Particularly something as damaging to his pride this little incident. So Sebastian doesn't complain when Jim holds his head in the car with an affected sigh of pain, or in a tone of apparent sorrow insists that he's sure he needs the full bed to sleep in tonight 'to recover' and so Sebastian will have to take the couch. Sebastian just nods and accepts it as a punishment far lighter than anything he'd been expecting.

And if he thinks to himself that the mental image of Jim's indignant, horrified face when he found himself sprawled under Sebastian in the dirt will cheer him up when he sleeps alone tonight, well. Jim never needs to know.

**Author's Note:**

> It's always been my headcanon that Sebastian was waiting in Kitty's backyard to help Jim escape, and this particular idea has been lurking in my head for a while. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
